Chapter 7
7
LAST WINTER brEAK
Lisa tried to hide the smirk she felt spreading across her face as soon as she entered the condo in Stowe. The walls, the enormous lounging couch, the fluffy rug in front of the roaring fire were all shades of oatmeal, beige, and blond—just as boring and basic as Gwen was.
“What a beautiful place!” She dropped her bag on the floor to let herself be embraced by Gwen. Behind her, she could hear Marcus muttering under his breath as he struggled with the skis. Gwen had told her that her parents had “gifted” her and Anton a ski cabin as their wedding present. The word cabin made her think of some rustic dump with dark wood paneling and drafty windows. She wasn’t expecting a luxury modern chalet.
She disentangled herself from Gwen’s embrace. Gwen smelled like pine. She probably has a special Vermont perfume that she only wears up here , Lisa thought.
“Come in, come in! You must be exhausted. How was the drive?”
“Oh, fine.” She followed Gwen into the heart of the large A-frame condo, where she was accosted by two stories of glass overlooking the village center and Mt. Mansfield. It was like peering out at an Alpine village covered in freshly fallen snow. She gasped, despite herself.
Gwen appeared by her side. “I know. Every time we come up here, I just pinch myself. We’re just so lucky to have this.” She squeezed Lisa’s arm. “And so blessed to be able to share it with friends.”
“Yes, you’re so blessed.” What a phony , Lisa thought. Gwen was a classic Libra. So obsessed with how she looked to the world. The whole reason people thought Gwen such a great hostess was because of her ability to pretend to like people she hated. But Lisa wasn’t fooled. As an Aquarius, she saw right through Gwen’s games.
“Oh, wow. This is amazing.” Marcus headed toward them, passing the roaring fire. “And the ski lifts are right there? It’s like a fairy tale!”
Gwen pointed. “Yup. Ski lifts are right there.”
Marcus walked right up to the plate glass window and stretched. “Sure beats skiing in the Poconos like when I was a kid. Magical.”
Lisa clapped her hands, as if the noise might break the spell her husband was under. Why was everyone so easily seduced by this woman? “We better get Kai settled.”
“Of course!” Gwen said. “The kids are all downstairs in the bunk room. Hope Kai doesn’t mind being with the younger kids. If he hates it, he is welcome to sleep up here in the living room. And you and Marcus are down there, too. Don’t worry, you have your own bathroom.”
“Are all the bedrooms downstairs?” Lisa asked.
“There are two upstairs, and two down below.”
“Great!” Message received. Gwen and Aimee would be on the top floor, no doubt enjoying spectacular views and privacy, while she and Marcus were relegated to the basement with the kids. Gwen was really enjoying this, Lisa thought. She had wondered why she was invited at all, and now she realized it was simply to humiliate her. “Marcus? Bags?” Lisa grabbed one small bag while he took the rest. As soon as her feet hit the lower steps, she could feel it was a few degrees chillier down here, and there was a dank smell.
“I can’t believe she stuck us in the basement,” she said as soon as they entered the large bedroom.
“It’s not the basement.” Marcus pointed to the sliding door that led to an outside patio. “You can walk out to the back.”
“It’s so cold down here.” Lisa began to put her things away. She hadn’t even wanted to come. She hated the cold, and she didn’t like to ski.
The past two years, her family and Aimee’s family had enjoyed a lovely little routine during their winter break. After Aimee returned from a holiday visit to her family’s house outside Baltimore, the two families would spend the days leading up to New Year’s ice-skating in Georgetown and seeing the lights at the National Zoo.
But not this year.
This year Gwen announced they could all join her and Anton and the boys up in Vermont. They could ring in the New Year on the slopes. Aimee had jumped at the chance. What was Lisa supposed to do? Let Aimee go up there without her? Vacations, weekend trips, these were when people bonded. And she could only guess what kind of poison Gwen might pour into Aimee’s ears if she wasn’t around. Imagining the shared jokes, the inside lingo, the memories they would later laugh over sent her heart racing.
“Try to be positive,” Marcus said amiably. “This will be fun. You can learn to ski.”
“Excuse me for noticing that we’re being treated as second-class.”
“Don’t be like that. It’s really nice of them to invite us.” He headed into the bathroom and started putting away his toiletries.
“Whatever,” Lisa hissed. Marcus didn’t see what she saw. And the more she sensed things, the less sensitive he became, as if there were some algebraic equation in their marriage that always had to equal zero.
That evening was painful for Lisa. She should have anticipated that she would be on Gwen’s turf, and that her hostess would lord it over everyone. She tried to connect to Aimee, but Aimee was clearly overwhelmed with tending to the needs of her three kids. Not for the first time did Lisa wonder if Aimee hadn’t made a mistake having the twins. During dinner, she plastered a smile on her face while returning to a favorite fantasy—that Aimee had stopped having kids at Noa. That the two of them had bonded over being parents of onlys, and that when Gwen moved in with her boisterous twins, their joint rejection of her became one more tie that bound them together. In this fantasy, Marcus and Scott often watched the two kids while she and Aimee traveled together having adventures.
She crashed back to reality when she heard her name.
“Earth to Lisa!” Scott said. “Hello?”
“What is it?” She looked around the table. The dishes had been cleared.
“Where did you go?” Gwen asked. “We were talking to you, and you were lost in la-la land.”
Lisa’s stomach clenched. She was always embarrassed to be caught out during a daydream. Teachers would humiliate her in class for not paying attention. Her mother used to berate her for being a space cadet . But in a family of five kids, delving deep in her own imagination was often the only chance she had at privacy. If she had to share her toys, her clothes, even a bedroom—at least she could keep her imagination locked away. No one could access her thoughts.
“Oh, she’s probably just tired. It is a long drive,” Aimee said and smiled at her. Lisa felt her friend’s warm affection bathe her. That kindness was what drew her to Aimee in the first place. Aimee might be the only person she had ever met who made her feel that she was good enough. Her whole body relaxed when she was around Aimee—her pulse steadied, her breathing regulated. How nice this trip would be if it were just the two of them.
Gwen held up a deck of cards. “Pitch?”
Lisa winced. She hated cards, especially this game that Gwen had taught them all with its complicated rules about jacks and trumps. Aimee had never been a card player before, and neither had Marcus, but now they all acted like they couldn’t think of a better way to spend their time together.
“Oh, yes!” Aimee said, heading to the living room. “This time you guys are going down!” The other adults took their beverages and gathered around the coffee table in front of the fire while the children headed down to the basement. Lisa hesitated in the kitchen. No one asked her what she thought, what she wanted. She wasn’t sure what an ideal end to the evening might be, but it wasn’t this. “I have a headache. I think I’ll go to bed early.”
“Ohh.” Aimee made a frowny face. “Do you need some Advil?”
“I have some, thanks.” She turned and walked downstairs. She knew it was abrupt, that she sounded curt, that another woman would have kissed her husband goodnight. But she wanted them to know she was displeased. She wanted her disapproval to hang over the evening like the smell of burnt food. Maybe Aimee might even come down and probe her for what was really the matter. Or at least Marcus.
But no one did.
She peeked in on the children, who were involved in a game called Assassin and completely ignored her pleasant inquiries. Even Kai was having fun. Feeling useless and unloved, she got into bed, where she seethed. Occasional peals of laughter wafted downstairs. They were having a good time without her, even her own husband. Traitor.
She hadn’t felt so alone in years. She thought of Ruth, her college roommate. Ruth had been a shy slip of a girl, afraid to go to the dining hall alone the first day. Lisa had accompanied her, watching how her roommate trembled slightly when confronted with the chaos of the cafeteria. Their friendship bloomed almost overnight and soon Ruth had become her favorite person . Everything about Ruth seemed wonderful to Lisa, from the way she held her hand over her mouth when she laughed be cause the gap between her front teeth embarrassed her, to how she drenched herself in drugstore body spray that smelled like honeysuckle.
They stuck together that first month, meeting up for all their meals, touching base between classes to tell each other funny little anecdotes, whispering their dreams and hopes to each other as they lay in their dorm beds at night. Lisa had been euphoric. Finally, she had a friend all to herself. It had been a little difficult to keep the other girls on the dorm floor away, but she was able to with a nasty comment or a rude look. People avoided them that first month. They developed a routine on Friday nights. While their floormates would pile on makeup and down shots of cheap liquor before going out, she and Ruth would tuck themselves into a little cocoon on one of the single beds and eat ice cream and watch TV on the tiny television that Ruth had brought from home.
But all that changed in the second month. Ruth started to pull away, to venture out further into the school. She began to make other friends, first a girl from her Spanish class, then a few members of the Film Club. Sometimes Lisa couldn’t find her at lunchtime, and when she did, she’d be sitting with those new friends, halfway through her salad.
The rejection had been unbearable.
In the dark, Lisa flinched at the memory of what she had done in response.
She had been hurting, and like a wounded animal she had lashed out. It wasn’t her fault.
A line from a book that she had read came to her: “Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.”
But she knew better now, in her forties, than she had at eighteen. That even though pain and suffering were her lot in life, she had control over her actions. She wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. A judge would not be so understanding this time.
But Lisa also couldn’t ignore the truth: if Gwen were gone, everything would be better.
Lisa squeezed her eyes and imagined herself and Aimee at Gwen’s funeral. The grieving friends, holding hands, leaning on each other for support. They would find succor in each other over their mutual loss. It would cement their friendship even more. Lisa would become Aimee’s favorite person again. After all, Aimee would turn to her whenever she wanted to remember Gwen. Lisa frowned. That could get exhausting. Having to pretend indefinitely that she was devastated that Gwen had died. She was sure to slip; a crack in her facade would show eventually. Besides, she didn’t want to mourn Gwen. No, the more she thought about it, the more she realized Gwen dying would be a disaster for her. The whole neighborhood would glorify her; she’d become a saint in death. It would be nauseating. Knowing the women in her neighborhood, they would probably start some kind of charity in her name. She would never escape Gwen then.
She rolled over on her side to face the window that she had cracked to let the cold Vermont air whisper in.
No, killing Gwen was out of the question.
There had to be another way to destroy her.